


Chain of Command

by pasiphile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom!John, Dom/sub, M/M, Sub!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for prompt: "Johncroft, dom/sub, with Mycroft as the sub."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain of Command

“You’re not going to get up from your knees,” John said, that specific military cadence in his voice.

Mycroft had always  _liked_ military men. Straightforward, clear, no nonsense… A refreshing change to double-talking politicians and suspicious intelligence offers. He had never really thought of it as an especially attractive characteristic, though. At least, not before now.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Did I say you could move?” John said, calmly.

Calm, he’d always been calm, even when he had been seething with rage he’d met Mycroft’s eyes without even blinking, and that was –

Well. Part of the reason why they were here, now, with Mycroft bound and kneeling and John standing over him.

“Well?” John said, pointedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“I’m sorry,  _Sir,_ ” he said, aiming for detached and sarcastic, although he doubted it had worked.

John’s thin, rather cruel smile confirmed he hadn’t bought it. He dropped his hand to his flies and opened his trousers, pulled out his cock. Semi-erect; it seemed Mycroft wasn’t the only one taking pleasure in this little game.

“Open your mouth,” John ordered.

Mycroft licked his lips and opened up. John took the back of his head and gently pulled him closer. Mycroft glanced up at him.

John was a fan of very clear, defined rules, and he hadn’t been told to move yet, or do anything but open his mouth. Creating a certain amount of tension.

John’s hand went to his cock, the other to Mycroft’s jaw. He – still careful, gentle, much like Mycroft imagined he would examine his patients – guided his cock into Mycroft’s mouth, a heavy warm weight against his tongue.

No instructions. He stayed quiet, not moving, briefly closing his eyes.

In little less than an hour he would have to go back to being the power behind the curtains, the invisible hand guiding everything that  _worked_ in this damn country, but for the moment it was a relief of immense proportions just to let go for a while, put his actions and pleasure in the hands of someone else.

Especially if those hands were as skilled as John’s.

“Good,” John said, softly. Mycroft opened his eyes again. John was starting to show his arousal, pupils dilated, face slightly flushed. “Now suck.”

He closed his eyes again and concentrated on John’s cock in his mouth, feeling all other thoughts drift unheeded to the back of his mind. John made an approving sound and his hand came up to the back of Mycroft’s head, gently holding him.

No more meetings, briefings, reports. Just this, just sex, and John, and the handcuffs holding him and John’s fingers stroking his hair.

Mycroft sucked a little deeper and sighed in bliss.


End file.
